


they said that hell's not hot

by cweepa



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mickey needs a hug, Post-Season 5, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cweepa/pseuds/cweepa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey follows him meekly, doesn't even turn around to wave goodbye. Ian never thought he would see the day where Mickey was afraid of someone. He wonders who that man was, to be able to strike such fear in the ex-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> typing this story out was really hard because my nails are long as fuck and they keep getting stuck in the keyboard. 
> 
> side note, there are mentions of rape (non graphic), violence (sort of graphic) and a very short paragraph that mentions forced food restriction, which is hardly noticeable but y'know, just to be safe. none of these happen between ian and mickey though.

The last place Ian expects to find Mickey is in Pennsylvania, in a grocery store, of all places.

But really, to be absolutely honest he didn't expect to find Mickey anywhere but Southside Chicago. Ian himself had gotten out a few years ago, moving slightly towards the Northside to be closer to his work but not close enough to actually warrant excessive teasing from his family. Last he heard, Mickey was still sleazing and scamming his way through the Southside.

He had obviously heard wrong.  


On closer inspection, Mickey is standing in front of a rack full of dental hygiene products, and seems to be contemplating....toothpaste.

Wow. Things _really_ were different.

Ian is staring at Mickey's back, slightly entranced, when someone prods him on the shoulder.

"I'm just going to grab some juice, okay?" Michael says, and Ian starts.

Right. Michael. His current boyfriend. Who is the whole reason why he's missing work back home. Whom he ..loves.

"Sure, okay," Ian says distractedly, and Michael pats him affectionately on the back before striding off.

He looks back at Mickey, who is still contemplating toothpaste.

_Ah, fuck it,_ Ian thinks.

"Hey," he says hesitantly, nudging Mickey gently, and Mickey nearly drops the toothpaste.

"Gallagher?" he says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Ian says, and Mickey shrugs. "Buying toothpaste."

"I didn't know you brushed your teeth," Ian teases. Mickey doesn't smile. But the slight tensing of his shoulders didn't go unnoticed.

That's when Ian finally takes in the changes in Mickey that is sort of disconcerting.

For one, he's paler. Which is rather amazing, considering that he was already pasty as fuck to begin with. It makes the light bruising along his cheekbone stand out starkly. He's lost muscle mass, and looks hollow , maybe even a little sad.

Mickey isn't standing tall, or deliberately slouching either. He looks uneasy, shifting from foot to foot and hunching his shoulders, as though he was trying to curl into himself.

He looks ill. Ian doesn't know why he feels a sudden stab of guilt.

"I'm just here with someone. On business," Ian says, and Mickey nods distractedly.

"It's nice here," Ian adds, and Mickey shrugs.

"Yeah. It is."  
  


He doesn't say anything else.  
  


"Mick, look, I'm really sorry about what happened all those years ago. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know," Mickey says simply, and turns around to pick out...dental floss.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at fucking dental products?" Ian snaps. "Didn't you want to talk about the break up?"

"That was six years ago," Mickey says. "I have to go." 

He drops two boxes of dental floss into his shopping cart, and shuffles away. Doesn't even insult or punch Ian. It's slightly worrying. Mickey isn't acting like...Mickey.

But then Michael comes back, and Ian pushes all thoughts of his ex-lover to the back of his head.

 

*

 

Ian finds himself hanging out at the grocery store a few days later, while Michael is meeting some business contacts for lunch. He doesn't know what he expects to find.

(He does. It's Mickey.)

He circles the store close to seven times, and the cashiers are starting to look at him suspiciously when he spots a familiar dark haired ex-con.

This time, Mickey is picking out a bottle of liquor. There is more dental floss in his cart, and a raw steak.

"Fancy seeing you again," Ian says casually, and Mickey nearly drops the bottle. If it were six years ago, Mickey would have hit Ian , or at least hurled a few insults his way. Now, however, he just takes a step back and places the bottle into his cart.

"Can I help you?" he says wearily, and Ian shrugs.

"I just want to talk," Ian explains, and Mickey shakes his  head.

"You need to go," he says urgently. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me. We can't avoid this forever, Mickey."

"Yes we can," the brunette hisses. "Just go, Gallagher. Please."  His voice drops at the end, and he looks....afraid.

"It's a free country. I can go where I want," Ian shoots back. Mickey is about to reply, when a meaty hand clamps down on his shoulder. He tenses up immediately.

"Who's this?" A tall, heavyset man asks. He's a lot taller than Mickey, and looks like he was made entirely out of muscle. Mickey bites his lip.

"No one," he says quickly, and the man narrows his eyes, unimpressed.

"Let's go," he says firmly, and Mickey nods obediently.

"Hey, hold up. I was just talking to him," Ian snaps. "Don't be fucking rude."

"Shut up, Gallagher," Mickey hisses, and the man turns around to stare at Ian.

"I thought you said you didn't know him."

"I don't," Mickey says hurriedly. The man doesn't look convinced.

"We're leaving," he repeats, pulling at Mickey's arm. "Come on."

Mickey follows him meekly, doesn't even turn around to wave goodbye. Ian never thought he would see the day where Mickey was afraid of someone. He wonders who that man was, to be able to strike such fear in the ex-con.

 

Michael leaves a week later, and Ian stays behind. He tells Michael that a relative needed his help with something. Michael doesn't question it, although he did look concerned, asks if Ian wants him to stay behind to lend a hand.

Ian feels bad about lying to his boyfriend, but he isn't ready to leave just yet. Isn't ready to leave Mickey.

He spends almost half the morning hanging out in the very same grocery store. This time, the cashiers ignore him.

He is about to give up and go back to the hotel sometime around noon, when he spots Mickey. There are a few boxes of band-aids in his cart, and another bottle of liquor.

"Mick, wait," he calls, and Mickey turns around.

"Fuck off," he snarls, and starts to walk away.

"Will you just fucking listen to me?" Ian fumes, grabbing Mickey by the shoulder. Mickey makes a choking sound, and tears his shoulder away from Ian's grip. Ian catches sight of a fading bruise on the back of his neck.

"Don't fucking touch me," he snaps.

Ian raises both hands, and steps back. "Fine. Will you talk to me now?"

"No," Mickey says, "Don't follow me."

He leaves.

Ian is so caught up in Mickey's retreating back that he nearly doesn't notice the battered leather wallet on the floor.  


_Bingo._

  


There are a few crumpled bills in there, a small handful of coins and a few band-aids, along with Mickey's ID, on which was printed his address. Ian notes it down, tells himself that he's not being fucking creepy and that he was just going to return the wallet to Mickey.

He spends an extra 10 minutes on his hair, though.

The apartment building that the address brings him to is pretty decent. The street is dotted with trees, a few shops and a couple of other buildings. It's a far cry from where Mickey and Ian grew up.

Ian stands outside the door for a good fifteen minutes before he finally knocks. Almost immediately, the door opens a crack.

"Mickey?" Ian says, peering through the crack between the frame and the door. The door slams shut, nearly clipping him on the nose.

"Go away." Mickey sounds muffled behind the door.

"I just want to return your wallet," Ian says patiently, and the door opens again, this time fully. Mickey is shirtless, clad only in loose sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Ian can't help but notice the darkening bruises forming along one side of Mickey's side, inching up toward his ribs. It's almost morbidly artistic.

"Give it to me," Mickey says, holding out a hand. The skin around his wrist is rubbed raw.

"Jesus, Mick," Ian takes a step forward. "Did you get run over by a bus or something?" As he speaks, he notices a few scratch marks across the side of Mickey's neck, arching out towards the back of his head and god knows where else.

"Fell down the stairs," Mickey replies automatically, his response almost robotic in nature.

"And those scratches?" Ian isn't convinced.

"Aren't you supposed to be returning me my fucking wallet?" Mickey demands, holding out a hand. "Stop fucking _interrogating_ me, and just give me my shit back."

"I'm just concerned about you," Ian says, and immediately regrets it. Mickey's face darkens, and he scowls.

"You lost that right when you left," he mutters and snatches the wallet from Ian's hand.

"Yeah...look. Can we talk about that?" Ian says pleadingly, and Mickey gives him a _'are you fucking kidding me_ ' look.

"Goodbye, Ian," he says, and slams the door shut.

 

It's only when Ian is back at the hotel, when he realizes that Mickey didn't seem angry. He seemed.... _scared._

And he had a damn good feeling about who Mickey was scared of.

 

*

 

Ian calls Mandy. It's something he hasn't done for awhile, and he hopes that her number is still the same.

The call connects (thankfully) and a man picks up the phone.

"Is Mandy in?" Ian asks.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm an old friend," Ian says, and he hears the man saying something in the background before Mandy comes on.

"Who's this?" she asks, and Ian takes a deep breath.

"Hey, Mands," he says weakly, and Mandy curses. "Piss off," she snaps. "I'm fucking done with you Gallaghers."

"Don't-don't hang up yet," Ian says quickly. "It's about Mickey."

"You fucking crushed him, and now you want me to help you crush him again?"

"That was a mistake, Mands," Ian says, and Mandy snorts.

"Yeah- _fucking-right_."

"Whatever I can do for him is better than what he has now, and you know it," Ian says, and instantly regrets it. Fuck, he really needed to invest in a filter.

"I'm hanging up now," Mandy says icily. "Have a nice life."

She doesn't hang up.

"Aren't you going to hang up?" Ian asks. "Or shall I hang up first?"

"Fuck you," she snaps, but there's no real venom in her voice. "Just so you know, I'm not doing this for you."

"I know," Ian says eagerly.

"And I will hunt you down and hold you down while Iggy rips your balls out if you dare hurt him again," she adds. "I'm serious."

"Point taken," Ian replies. "In fact, I'll tear them off myself."

Mandy sighs, and Ian can practically feel her unhappiness over the phone. "Chad is a dick."

"I know, I sort of figured."

Mandy swallows, and exhales thinly. "No, he's a real bastard. He's ten times worse than you, and that's saying something."

"Gee, thanks, Mandy."

"He _beats_ Mickey," she says softly. "He treats Mickey like shit, and my brother just _lets_ him. I try telling Mickey, but he just gets all defensive and angry and tells me to fuck off. He..he hasn't called me in ages and he's not answering his phone, right now."

"This might sound insensitive," Ian warns, "But I sort of doubt Mickey is the sort to be abused. I mean, he's a fucking _Milkovich_."

"Exactly," Mandy whispers, and Ian realizes.

"Mickey doesn't have people to help him out of this. He only has me and maybe Iggy. We Milkoviches always pick the best ones, don't we?" She lets out a choked sob, and Ian wishes that she was with him then, that he could give her a hug. "The only difference is, he was able to help me. I can't help him," she sounds on the verge of tears. "I can't help him, Ian, none of us can. And it's fucking horrible, y'know? The last time I saw him, he couldn't even walk properly because _Chad_ got fired from his job and felt that it was right for him to take his anger out on my brother. As though it was Mickey's fault that that asshat is incompetent at everything he does. And Mickey just _let_ him." She pauses, and sighs heavily. "I want to know what the fuck happened to my brother, Ian. I want to know where Mickey Milkovich went."

She promptly breaks down, and Ian clutches the phone desperately. "Mandy...."

"This is your fucking fault, Gallagher," she snarls. "Fucking fix it, or I swear to god I will end you, Ian. My brother's aren't the only ones who can get their hands dirty. Fucking fix Mickey, please, or I..I..." she breaks off and swallows noisily. "Please," she whispers. "I can't do anything, but you can."

"I'll try," Ian says quietly.

They sit in silence for a while, Ian holding the phone gingerly while Mandy composed herself. Some time passes, and Ian tries not to think of the bill he's going to get for this call.

"Have you gone to the police?" Ian asks timidly.

"I wouldn't do that to my brother," she says softly. "Chad is bad for him, but if I force Chad away from him, it would just about _wreck_ him. Mickey has some sort of weird, twisted attraction to him, and I can't just fucking wrench it away from him like that again. He..he has to see for himself, make his own decision so he won't get crushed like..like.."

"Like what I did to him," Ian finishes, and he can almost hear Mandy smile down the phone.

"Fix it, Ian," she says. "You're not really my number one choice, but I'll take what I can."

She hangs up.

And the many years of guilt starts to come crashing down on Ian.

 

*

 

The next time Ian sees Mickey is purely coincidental.

It's at a diner, some ways from his hotel, and Mickey is curled up in a booth with someone whom Ian is almost willing to bet is the Chad that Mandy mentioned. He nibbling at a pancake, nodding rhythmatically to whatever Chad says. His eyes look empty, and Ian feels the urge to slam Chad's head into the table and pour hot coffee down his shirt.

Instead, Ian sidles up to their table like the smooth bastard he is. (Not really.)

"Heeeeyyy Mickey," he says, ,and Mickey starts. "Gallagher?" he hisses, and Ian grins sunnily. "Fancy seeing you here."

"It's a diner," Mickey says warily, and Chad narrows his eyes. Ian spitefully notes how fucking ugly he is, a little like an overfed mix between a body builder and bulldog. His muscles are the size of Ian's head. It's disgusting.

(It's really not, but Ian likes to think it is.)

"I know you," he says dangerously. "You're that little twink from the grocery store."

"Ian Gallagher," Ian says, holding out a hand. Chad takes hold of it slowly and shakes it, his grip tightening to an almost bone-crushing degree.

"Is there anything you need?" he asks slowly, and Ian shrugs. "I just wanted to say hi to Mickey."

"You need to leave," Mickey says lowly.

"I was hoping we could catch up," Ian says, and looks at Chad daringly.

"Do it outside," he says gruffly. "And hurry back."

"I don't really-"

"Go, Mickey." Chad says. Mickey jumps up as though he has been scalded, and shoots Ian a dirty glare. Ian pulls him out of the diner and onto the street.  
  
  


"I know," Ian says. "I know about Chad."

"No you don't," Mickey replies crossly. "You need to stop following me around, Gallagher. It's getting annoying."

"Look, I just want to help you-"

"I don't need help," Mickey says angrily. "Look, just...just go home, alright? You have a boyfriend now, don't you? You go back to yours, I go back to mine. Stop trying to ruin this for me."

"Ruin this?" Ian looks incredulous. "This isn't healthy, Mickey."

"You and your goddamn hero complex," Mickey spits. "You're just fucking selfish, aren't you? You took everything away from me, and now  you want to take Chad too. That's low, Gallagher, even for you."

Ian tries not to flinch.

"Don't look for me again," Mickey says. "Chad doesn't like it."

And he goes back into the diner.

_Well that went spectacularly_ , Ian thinks.

 

*

 

Michael calls him that night.

"How's everything going?" he asks, and Ian feels his stomach curl in on itself with guilt. Here, he's trying to chase his ex while his current boyfriend, his sweet, thoughtful boyfriend, is concerned about him. Ian feels like a horrible person.

"It's going fine," he says. "I might need to stay here a bit longer, though."

"What's up with that relative, anyway?" Michael asks curiously.

Ian bites his tongue, and decides to tell him. "He's...my cousin. And he's in an abusive relationship. I...I don't know what to do."

"There's nothing you can do though," Michael says. "He can only help himself."

"But there must be something I can do to speed up the process," Ian says, frustrated. "I owe it to him. He's..um..he helped me out with something before, and I can't just let him live his life like this."

"Trying talking to him," Michael suggests. "It could help him see things."

"I've tried," Ian argues. "It doesn't work."

"No, you haven't," Michael chuckles. "Is it talking, or pitying?"

Ian has a _'well fuck'_ moment then and there.

"Thanks," he says. "I...thanks, really." The pit of guilt is getting wider.

"No problem, babe," Michael says. "Tell me how it goes. Love you."

"Me too," Ian says. He doesn't really mean it.

 

*

 

He visits Mickey again, armed with junk food and a copy of _The Avengers._

He knocks on the door.

Mickey answers, looking sleepy. His hair is sticking up all over the place, and it would have been adorable if not for the purpling bruise on his bare torso and a split lip.

"Can't you take a fucking hint?" he groans. "It's too early for this shit."

"Is Chad home?" Ian peers in . Mickey eyes him suspiciously before deciding that it wasn't worth the effort trying to chase the redhead away.

"He's at work," Mickey yawns. "Whatever you have to say, get it over and done with so I can go back to bed."

Ian holds up a bag of Doritos in response. "They didn't have Pringles," he says apologetically. Mickey just looks confused.

"I'm not here to convince you to leave Chad or anything," Ian adds. "But maybe we could hang for a bit?" He pulls out the DVD. "I brought superheroes."

"The Avengers?" Mickey looks skeptical.

"Fuck off," Ian says, grinning. "I know you love them."

"Whatever you say, Gallagher," he replies. "Chad...Chad doesn't like me having people over, though."

"Chad's not here, is he?" Ian says. "Besides, we're just hanging out. Watching a movie." He waves the bag of chips at Mickey. "It's Cool Ranch."

"Fine," Mickey says, rolling his eyes. "You're fucking annoying, you know that?"

"I've been told," Ian says cheerily and steps into the apartment.

 

He doesn't know what he's expecting. A dark, creep bloodstained lair with chains all over the place, maybe. A wall full of whips or a knife display.

The apartment is, however, surprisingly normal. Pretty cozy, even. There's a large couch with a fluffy blanket thrown over it and a flat screen TV. There's a few photo frames sitting atop an end table, one of Mickey and Mandy that he has seen before, another of Chad and some other guys and a few of Mickey and Chad.

Mickey looks happy in those photos. Like, genuinely happy.

"This is nice," he says, picking up one of the frames. Mickey tenses immediately. "Where did you guys go?"

"The beach," Mickey says, as though Ian is very dumb. "Gallagher, there's sand in that picture."

"So there is," Ian says. "I've not gone there in ages."

He replaces the photograph without saying anything else, and Mickey relaxes visibly.

"Get the movie started, I'll just put on a shirt," Mickey says.

"And brush your teeth?"

"Fuck off," Mickey calls, and it's almost like old times.

Except that Ian is sitting on another man's couch, and Mickey is wearing the bruises of said man.

They watch The Avengers, mostly in silence. Mickey devours the Doritos like a hungry chipmunk, and merely grins smugly when Ian tells him so.

"I'll bring more next time," he says, and Mickey looks delighted. "You'd better."

Ian can't help but think about how there will be a next time, about how Mickey is open to the idea.

 

By the time the movie ends, Mickey is staring mournfully at the empty bag.

"I miss this," he says softly.

"Me?" Ian asks before he can stop himself.

"Hah, no," Mickey gives him a look. "This. Junk food."

"They sell this at the grocery store, you know," Ian says dryly, and Mickey shrugs casually.

"Chad doesn't let me have them."

"Why?" Ian asks, fighting the urge to say _fuck Chad._

"He calls them empty calories. Says that they'll make me fat."

"That would be an improvement," Ian mutters. "You're too fucking thin. Plus, have you seen him? He's like three times your size and height."

"Chad likes how I look, even if you don't," Mickey shoots. "And you're exaggerating. Don't you pull short jokes on me now, Gallagher."

"You don't look bad," Ian says. "I just...I'm just saying that you can afford to splurge on whatever junk food you want. Go nuts."

"Bring me Pringles," Mickey says, and Ian grins.

 

Ian orders in a pizza when lunchtime comes creeping up, and pays for it.

Mickey looks as though Christmas and his birthday had come at the same time. It's almost heartbreaking, how he had been denied this for so long that even lukewarm pizza with stringy cheese was a treat for him.

"I might have to keep you around," Mickey says. Ian fights the urge to agree, to tell him to _fucking leave Chad and follow me home._

He gives Mickey his phone number before he leaves. "Call me if you want to hang or, y'know, whatever."

"I still have your number, you know," Mickey comments dryly.

"No you don't," Ian says, mouth quirking. "I changed it."

 

 

This time round, Ian calls Michael.

"Hey," Michael sounds happy. "How are things going on your end?"

"You were right," Ian says. "We hung out today. He seemed almost normal. "

"He is," Michael replies. "He just made a bad decision, is all."

"It's not his fault," Ian mumbles. "I think I might be getting somewhere."

"Remember to be patient, though. It will probably take some time," Michael suggests.

"I might have to stay on a little longer," Ian admits. "I should find somewhere else to crash. The hotel is getting expensive."

"Don't worry about it," Michael says generously. "Help your cousin. You're a good person, Ian."

Ian has never felt worse in his life.

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sure. Remember your meds. Love you."

Ian hangs up and bangs his head against the wall.

"I'm a terrible person," he says out loud.

 

*

 

They develop a routine, Ian and Mickey.

Ian would come over sometime during the day but before Chad came home, usually with a movie or, on one memorable occasion, a porno.

"It's some weird octopus shit that I saw at one of those sex shops," Ian says. "It looked cool."

"It looked cool," Mickey parrots. "I wonder what the poor cashier thought."

"Just play it," Ian says, grinning. "It could be hot."

It's not hot. It's not hot at all, and Mickey looks slightly horrified about fifteen minutes in.

"I hear Mean Girls is playing on HBO," he says.

" _Mean Girls_?" Ian says, raising an eyebrows.

"Tentacle porn?" Mickey counters, and ejects the disc, tossing it at Ian's head.

 

*

 

Two weeks in, Michael gets into a car crash.

"Fuck," Ian says, when Fiona calls him. "Fuck fuck fuck."

"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" she asks. "I've not seen you in ages. You two missed so many family dinners." She sounds almost accusing.

"Busy," Ian says. "Shit, I have to go back."

"You left?" she sounds surprised.

"It's nothing," Ian says quickly, and hangs up.

 

Five minutes later, he has booked an evening flight home.  He is packing his suitcase when the phone rings.

"Can you come?" Mickey asks.

"I'm...I'm a little tied up now," Ian says, apologetically.

"Please," Mickey says, and he sounds...desperate.

Ian sighs.

"I'll be there in fifteen," Ian says, grabbing the keys to his rental car.

"I'm not home," Mickey says. "I'm...umm..."

"I can pick you up."

"It's okay. Can you meet me at the diner? The one where you-"

"Yeah, I remember. Okay."

Ian hangs up and buries his face in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mentions of non-con, violence and excessive cursing. on a side note, i don't have prior experience with abuse so i hope that i managed to do the topic justice. do tell me if i have portrayed anything wrongly :)

Mickey is a mess.  


His face looks as though someone had run a cheese grater over it, and one of his eyes is purpling. He's holding himself gingerly, and Ian catches sight of blood staining the side of his tee. There are tear tracks woven through the dried blood on his face, but Mickey's eyes are dry and he's hugging himself tightly.  


"What the fuck, Mickey," Ian says. " _What the fuck_."

"It was my fault," Mickey cuts in. "I shouldn't have provoked him."

"This ... this is too much, Mickey," Ian says wearily. "You need to ... at least ... he's not healthy for you, Mickey."

Ian expects Mickey to yell at him, maybe even storm off. Instead, Mickey's eyes cloud over.

"I know," he whispers, so softly that Ian almost missed it.

"Is Chad home?" Ian asks, fighting the urge to crack his knuckles.

"He left for work," Mickey says. "I...I just needed to get out of there. Fresh air, ya know?

"You look like a walking horror movie," Ian says bluntly. He gently guides Mickey towards the bathroom at the back of the diner, and starts to soak half a roll of tissue. He helps Mickey to clean up silently, and shrugs his sweater off after they are done.

He hands it to Mickey , and Mickey looks at it questioningly.

"You're shivering," Ian says. "And there's blood on your shirt. I'd rather people not think you're a murderer."

Mickey pulls the sweater on, and demands Ian buy them waffles. It's scares Ian to see his demeanor change so quickly.

 

Ian drives Mickey back home and figures out how to break the news to him. He decides to just say it straight. 

"Michael's in the hospital," he says, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel nervously.

"Oh," Mickey replies. looking awkwardly at his feet. "I...I hope he's fine."

"I need to go back," Ian says. "I don't know when I can come back here."

"It's cool, Ian, really. Go back to Michael," Mickey says, almost gently. "I can survive without you, y'know."

He smiles, and Ian feels guilty.

"I know," Ian says. "I...I just...Chad..."

"Chad is fine," Mickey says. "You should go home. I've kept you here long enough."

"I don't mind," Ian argues. "Really, I don't."

Mickey places a hand on Ian's thigh and squeezes it comfortingly. "I have your number. I'll be fine," he says. "Go home, Ian."

Ian goes.

 

*

 

He tells himself that he would be back, that he would return to help Mickey. Somehow, he can't fight the feeling that he has failed. It's an ugly feeling. The whole drive to the airport, he fights the urge to stop the car and go back to Mickey. He feels horrible.

He carries on, anyway.

Michael is, thankfully, fine. A broken leg and a few cracked ribs, but he's going to heal and he's delighted to see Ian.

"How's the cousin?" he asks, and Ian shrugs. "Still stuck in the same abusive relationship."

"And you still came back for me?" Michael asks, looking concerned.

"I did," Ian says. "Shit. I should have stayed, shouldn't I?"

"I'm glad to see you, though," Michael says, closing his eyes. "I missed you."  


And Ian can't do it anymore.  


"We need to break up," he says, and immediately regrets how insensitive and badly thought out it was.

"Excuse me?" Michael opens his eyes.

"I..you deserve better than me," Ian says. "You're...you're a good person, Michael. An amazing person, hell, you're a fucking saint. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"Except you," Michael says hollowly. "You don't feel lucky."

"I'm not good enough for you, I don't deserve you," Ian whispers. "I...I-"

"Are you off your meds again?" Michael says wearily. "It's okay, Ian, we will get through this-"

"I'm perfectly balanced," Ian cuts in. "I'm sure about this."

Michael exhales slowly, and rubs his temples. "It's not a cousin you are helping, is it?" he finally asks. "It's someone else."

"It's someone else," Ian confirms guiltily. "And...I- I owe it to him. Fuck. I hurt everyone, don't I?"

"Not really," Michael says, his mouth crinkling into a slight smile. "It's one thing to hurt someone, but at least you're trying to patch him up."  


"I hurt you."  


"Not really," Michael says again. "You were never really invested in our relationship, anyway. Plus the sex wasn't that fantastic."  


"Shut up," Ian says, laughing. "You loved it."

"I've had better," Michael says, grinning, and Ian wonders how he was so lucky to land someone like Michael, only to be so stupid as to throw him away.

"I'm sorry," he says instead. "I love you, really, but just not in the romantic sort of way."

"At least I'm still beautiful and young," Michael says. "Plenty of new fish in the sea."

"Too bad the shark has a broken leg," Ian teases, poking at Michael's cast leg. "We are still friends, though, right?"

"Sure," Michael replies easily. "Now get me the remote. This television has been playing _Honey Boo Boo_ since last night and I'm just about ready to break my other leg to change the channel."

 

*

 

Ian calls Mickey that evening.

"How's Michael?" Mickey asks sleepily.  

"He's fine," Ian replies. "We broke up."

"What?" Mickey sounds dazed. "Why the fuck would you?"

"I didn't really love him," Ian says. "He's cool with it, though. We're friends now."

"That never really works out, you know," Mickey says thoughtfully. "But good for you, I suppose."

"How are you?" Ian asks. "Is..Is Chad home?"

"He's coming home soon, I think," Mickey replies. "I guess he's out drinking with some friends or something," he adds. He sounds nervous--worried, even. He tries to hide it, though, but being a chronic liar himself, Ian sees through it immediately.

"I'll be coming over in a couple of days,"  Ian says, and Mickey snorts.

"You don't need to come back," Mickey says. "I don't need you or anything. You have your life, I have mine. Don't put everything on hold for me," he continues.

"I want to," Ian argues. "It's no trouble."

"Don't you have a job?" Mickey counters, and Ian shrugs, then realizes that Mickey can't see him.

"I'm a personal trainer," he says. "The gym has flexible hours, I just need to tell my clients that I have a family emergency or something."

There was only so much time he could take off work, though. He hadn't really thought about his job, coming to think about it. His mind had been...preoccupied.

"This isn't an emergency, though," Mickey says slowly. "Right?"

"Right," Ian says unconvincingly.

"I don't need your help, Gallagher," Mickey says. "I know..I know Chad can be a little too much, but...just leave it to me, alright?"

_No,_ Ian wants to yell. _I can't fucking sit here and watch you get smacked around by that bastard._ _Come back, Mickey, for the love of God, fucking come back._

Instead, he swallows and heaves a deep sigh. "You don't need him," Ian says. "Come home. I'm here waiting. Mandy misses you, and I'm pretty sure Iggy has a pile of weed stashed aside with your name on it."

"Goodbye, Ian," Mickey says gently. "Call me if you're in the area, we can hang, but don't come here specifically to eat nachos on my couch."

"Mickey, wait-"

"I'm not some stray that needs saving," Mickey says, a note of finality to his voice. He hangs up.

 

Time passes.

Ian throws himself into work. Michael moves out of their shared apartment, and between work and struggling to pay off the mortgage on his own, Ian doesn't have much time to worry about Mickey.

He still does, though. He wonders how Mickey is doing, if he's even still alive. His hand itches to pick up the phone and call, to check up on Mickey, but he can't bring himself to dial the number.

He can't bring himself to hear Mickey's hoarse voice, to sit through the forced cheerfulness and bask in his own failure.

Nearly half a year later, a little past midnight, Ian is woken up by his phone ringing.

It's Mickey. Ian nearly trips over his blankets in an effort to reach his phone as quickly as possible.

 

"Mickey?" he answers, heart pounding.

There's heavy breathing on the other end of the line, and a few choked sobs.

"Mickey?" Ian repeats, growing frantic. "Mickey, what's wrong?"

"You're right," Mickey says, his voice shaky. "You were fucking right, okay?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Ian says lowly, his hand trembling. "Fuck, Mick. Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Mickey whispers.

"I'm coming over," Ian says. "Hang in there."

"It's a nine hour drive," he says. "I'll be fine. Just...keep talking, please, say anything, I just need-"

"I'm coming," Ian says. "If I speed, I'll make it there in seven."

"Don't be fucking stupid," Mickey says, giving a watery laugh. "Are you on your meds?"

"Fuck them," Ian snarls, and stops. That argument had gotten them to this point in the first place, and fuck, if he was going to make the same mistake. "I...I am, Mick. I'm balanced, I promise. I'm coming for you. Right now, I need you to get out of there. Do you have anyone you can crash at for time being?"

"I can't go, Ian," Mickey says, and starts to cough. Ian winces.

"What do you mean, you can' t fucking go? Mickey, you have to sto-"

"I mean I can't fucking leave. He cuffed me to the radiator."

 

*

 

Ian drops by the Milkovich household on his way to Mickey.

Iggy answers the door.

"The fuck, Gallagher?" he splutters. "It's fucking ass o'clock in the morning."

"Is Mandy in?" Ian asks. "I need Mandy."

"She's in fucking Malibu, with her boyfriend," Iggy says. "Why?"

"You want to help me kill Chad?"

"It's not that fucking simple," Iggy says tiredly. "Believe me, I would have if I could."

"Yes it is," Ian says blithely. "Mickey called me."

"Is he okay?" Iggy's hand is twitching, and Ian hopes that he's not reaching for a handgun.

"No," Ian replies bluntly. "And he knows it. I'll explain later, but now, I've got no fucking time, Iggy, you in?"

Iggy sighs.

"What the hell," he mutters. "Calm your tits, just let me grab a damn shirt first."

 

*

 

The drive all the way over is tense, and Iggy keeps staring out the window.

"You want to drive?" Ian asks, after four hours of watching him fidget.

"I'm just worried about Mick," Iggy replies. "He...we couldn't do anything, y'know? It's fucking scary seeing him like this, man, he's always been the smartest of all of us, and he's the youngest but he sort of...he takes care of us."

Ian remains silent.

"Of all fucking people-- y'know, sometimes I wonder if it was inevitable-"

"That's a big word."

"Inevitable," Iggy says loudly, glaring meaningfully at Ian, "that this was going to happen. It's a constant fucking chain, isn't it? Mandy, now Mickey."

"It's all those daddy issues, man," Ian says.

"Maybe. Terry _was_ a piece of shit," Iggy says, shrugging casually. "But for my brother, it was mostly your fault."

Ouch.

"I know," Ian says wearily. "Believe me, I know."

"We should have tried harder, though," Iggy says softly. "I mean, all of us, we could take Chad down. easy. We're fucking Milkoviches, ya know? We've taken down far worse. But Mandy didn't let us, said it would kill him. And I ..I don't fuckin' know what to do, I mean, we usually punch our problems until they disappear. This emotional shit? We were all so fucking lost."

"You tried your best," Ian says unconvincingly.

"We could have tried harder," Iggy argues. "Figures that the only person who can help him is the one who got him there in the first place."

"About that-"

"Forget it," Iggy says. "I'm not going to argue with you about this. I just hope you're not going to throw him back to the wolves after this, or-."

"Or you'll rip my balls out, I know, Mandy already made that threat."

Iggy fixes Ian with a steely glare. It looks out of place on his usually stoned face.

"Or you'll break him for good," he says. It's like a bucket of cold water over Ian's head.

 

*

 

They make it there in eight hours.

"Chad's car is gone," Iggy says, and Ian gives him a look. "How do you know how his car looks like?"

"I've keyed it a few times," Iggy replies. "And I might have pissed on it the last time I visited Mickey. So I guess this means that Chad isn't home."

"And Mickey is," Ian says hopefully.

"Only one way to find out," Iggy replies.

 

They ring the doorbell, but no one answers.

Ian kicks the door, and promptly finds himself on the ground cradling his foot.

"You idiot," Iggy groans. "This isn't a damn movie."

It takes twenty seconds for Iggy to pick the lock, and the door swings open. Ian steps in hesitantly. He doesn't know what to expect, hopes that it's not as bad as he thinks.

The living room is a mess. The photo frames are on the ground, a chair is overturned and the ground is littered with shards of broken glass and sticky, red liquid. "Mickey?" Ian calls out, and steps over the glass gingerly. "I've brought Iggy."

He pushes open the door to the bedroom, and nearly throws up there and then.

"Fuck, Mick," Ian says weakly.

 

 

Mickey is curled up in a corner beside the radiator, naked save for a pair of boxers pulled half-heartedly up his hips, his pale body littered with cuts and bruises. His right leg hangs at an odd angle, and there's blood staining the fabric in between his legs. Ian doesn't want to think of what happened.

His eyes are half shut, faced covered in dried blood, tears and white stuff that Ian fervently hopes is snot. Blood and saliva drips out of his open mouth. He looks ...dead.

"Mick, it's me." Ian bends down and tries to rouse the smaller man. "Fuck, I'm going to kill that bastard. Mickey, wake up, don't fall asleep. You might be concussed."

"Gallagher," Mickey murmured, coughing out an impressive amount of blood. "You didn't need to come, you orange idiot."

Iggy appears in the doorway.

"Fuck," he swears. "I..I'm going to be sick," he says, before there is a crash outside.

"What the fu-" Chad barely has time to get a word out before Iggy curses and shoots him in the leg.

"Iggy!" Ian yells. "Don't fucking shoot him. Jesus."

"You're right," Iggy says. "It's too easy a death. I'm going to fucking skin him alive."

"You're fucking nuts!" Chad screams. "I didn't do anything!"

"Say that to my little brother's face," Iggy grunts, and kicks him in the nuts.  

" _Iggy_!"

"It was an accident!" Iggy shouts back. "I'm going to call the fucking cops now. Get Mickey to a fucking hospital." He picks the lock to the cuffs, and Mickey's arm falls limply.

Ian picks Mickey up carefully, bridal style. He's so fucking light that Ian doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. He had always been smaller than Ian, but what height he lacked he made up for in bulk. Ian shouldn't be able to carry him this easily.

Ian picks his way out the mess, and can't resist grinding his heel down on Chad's balls on his way out.

"Whoops. Didn't see where I was going," he says to Iggy, who gives him a grim smile.

 

*

 

There's some internal bleeding and a few of Mickey's ribs need to be cast, along with his leg. There is some skin grafting needed for the network of burnt skin on his back, and there's minimal rectal tearing. The doctor uses words such as _forced_ and _therapy_ , and Ian fights the urge to yell at him to just say the word rape. Because that's what Chad did. He beat and raped Mickey, and Ian wasn't there to stop it.

"It's not your fault," Iggy says, after giving his statement. They are waiting for Mickey to come out of the operation theatre. It's not nearly as serious as it looks, but Ian can't help but feel horrible.

"I drove him to this," Ian says softly.

"And you got him back," Iggy says. "What's in the past is in the past. What matters is now. Chad is probably going to be behind bars for a good few years, and you can bet that I'll put a word out to my buddies in the can to rough him up a little. But you know what? Mickey is here, and he's alive. You should take credit for that."

"That was...surprisingly insightful."

"I might be a little high," Iggy admits, and Ian punches him in the shoulder.

 

Mickey looks terrifyingly frail, his bare torso bandaged and his leg cast, his skin almost blending in with the stark, white hospital sheets. But his eyes are bright and his face is glowing.

"Least I still have control over my ass. I'm not ready for diapers," he says the moment Ian creeps in, and Iggy laughs.

"That's disgusting," Ian grimaces, and Mickey grins back. It's a genuine smile, nothing like the halted, hesitant one that he had always given Ian for the past few months. It's painfully beautiful, and Ian feels like sobbing in relief.

"You look beautiful," Ian blurts out, and Iggy gives him a _'what the fuck'_ look.

"You're so fucking gay," Mickey chuckles, and it's a gorgeous sound. He sounds...free. Happy. "And I know I look shit, Gallagher."

"But you're happy," Ian says, and it's a statement.

"Yes....yeah. I'm happy," Mickey says, and it's like a self realization for him as well. "Fuck. I'm happy. Chad...Chad is gone, isn't he?"

"You might have to testify but he's probably going to have to do time. If he comes near you, I'll kill him," Iggy says casually.

"You'll kill him," Mickey echoes.

"After chopping his tiny dick off," Ian adds.

"It..it is rather small," Mickey says, and for the first time in six years, Ian can breathe.

 

*

 

Mandy bursts into tears when she sees Mickey, and clings to him tightly.

"For the record, you're still an asshole." She tells Ian.

"I know."

"And I will never forgive you for dumping Mickey."

"I can't even forgive myself."

"But," Mandy says. "But. If you were to ...court my brother, I guess you have my blessings. Just--just don't fuck it up again."

"I won't," Ian promises her, and she gives him a watery smile. "Thanks for bringing my brother back."

 

He brings Mickey out for dinner a week later.

"We never got our date," Ian says, and Mickey laughs. "I guess not. Does it mean this is a date?"

"If you want it to be," Ian says, and Mickey squeezes his hand.

Their meal goes smoothly, for once, and Ian drives them to the dugouts afterwards.

Mickey raises an eyebrow at his choice of place.

"Really, Ian?"

"We could watch the stars," Ian says, and Mickey groans loudly. "I can feel my balls shrinking into my body, Gallagher."

"Shut up and cuddle with me."

 

It gets too cold after a while, so they migrate back into Ian's car and turn on the heat. Mickey is chewing his lip, as though he wants to say something but doesn't know how to use his words.

"I can't do this," Mickey says finally.

Ian's heart stutters.

"Do what?" he says faintly.

"This," Mickey waves a hand around. "Dating. I..I'm sorry, Ian, I don't think I'm ready for a relationship right now."

He looks afraid, as though Ian would hate him just because he doesn't want a relationship. Ian reaches over and puts an arm around his shoulders, hopes that it's seen as a comforting gesture instead of an _'I want to get into your pants'_ move.

"It's fine, Mick. I understand," Ian says. "Really. This can be a friends-date if you want."

"Like you and Michael?"

"I don't love Michael," Ian says. "But I think I love you."

Mickey blinks, and laughs slightly hysterically.

"You always have the worst timing, Gallagher," he says. "We can still hang, though. I hear there's another Avengers coming out soon."

" _Age of Ultron_ ," Ian says. "Sure. We can hang."

"And maybe," Mickey says. "Maybe it will go somewhere."

 

Ian thinks for a bit. It will take time, he knows, before Mickey is fully comfortable with being in a relationship again. And it will be hard to gain back Mickey's trust, but Ian is fully willing to work for it. He doesn't actually know if Mickey wants to go back to being boyfriends after this ordeal, but they'll cross the bridge when they come to it.  


Because, for now, they have all the time in the world.  


Ian chews his lip, before turning around and offering a hand to Mickey.  


"Hey. I'm Ian Gallagher. I like long walks on the beach and working out. I've made a few huge mistakes in my life, but I've recently gotten a second chance, which I'm not going to waste.  It's nice to meet you."

Mickey stares at him for a bit, before cracking a smile and gripping Ian's hand tightly.  

"I'm Mickey Milkovich. The pleasure is mine."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's probably going to be another part where they get together and maybe another from Mickey's pov cuz I really want to explore that but i have a four page essay due tomorrow so it will take some time i guess. 
> 
> fun fact - i chose chad's name by googling 'douchebag male names' . it's not really a douche-y name though. i'm just not very creative. 
> 
> leave a review?


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